Best Friends Don't Do That
by RealityIsMyKryptonite
Summary: They say when you're drunk the majority of what comes out of your mouth is the raw truth. Why else would Tim have said that if he didn't at least mean it a little bit… TimKon.


**Disclaimer: I do not own anything but the story. Everything else belongs to DC.**

**Best Friends Don't Do That**

Every night. Every night since Tim's father was killed, his dreams had been haunted with painful memories and false images of his past. He'd often find himself jolted awake by the warm feeling of blood on his hands, immediately checking to make sure that they weren't actually covered in the deep-crimson substance, and on most occasions, he'd come to consciousness shivering in a cold sweat, the sheets soaked completely through to the mattress, his eyes watering and his breathing quick.

When he was younger, all he had to do was cry out and Alfred would be there. He would sit at his bedside, stroke his fingers through Tim's hair in the most calming of ways, and tell him stories of Bruce when he was little. Sooner or later, that'd do the trick, but every now and then, he'd have one of _those_ nightmares; those nightmares that would scare the living daylights out of even the most corrupt-minded man. That's when Alfred would turn to Dick. He'd come into Tim's room, his eyes tired, his hair all disheveled, and slide into bed with him.

"_Move over, Timmy_," he'd say, "_I'm here to help._" And that's when Tim would try to make his eyes stop watering, but there was honestly no use. "_Look at me,_" he continued, but Tim, being the stubborn teenager that he is, refused to show him his face. The last thing he wanted to be in front of Dick was weak, and he felt that looking at him would be exactly that. So that's when Dick would place his hand on Tim's cheek and bring his head up to look at him anyway, using his thumb to wipe away Tim's tears.

"_Timmy,_" he'd say, "_if you want to talk about it, I'm all ears, and if not, then that's fine, too, but I just want you to know that I'm here, and you're not alone in this. And if you want me to leave, then all you have to do is say so, okay?_" Sometimes, when he felt he needed to vent it off to feel better, Tim would talk to him. He'd tell him about it while Dick just lay next to him silently and listened, giving him reassuring words of comfort that helped him calm down. Dick, that son-of-a-bitch. He was blessed with the ability to look on the positive side of things no matter how screwed up his life was. Tim had always envied that.

However, on most of those nights, Tim didn't talk. Most of those nights, all Tim needed was intimacy; physical contact. So whenever Dick asked Tim what it was he needed him to do, he'd just mutter the word "_Stay_" and that would be enough. That would be enough to make Dick grin and pull Tim into his arms, placing a soft kiss on the top of his head while he said, "_Sure," _and began to gently rub one of his hands up and down Tim's back. And Dick never knew, and still doesn't know – Lord help him – but as Tim was snuggled up to his chest, he couldn't help but smile. His brother had always been there for him, and he knew that he always would be.

But, for some reason, this night, there was a lack of nightmares, and ironically enough, this scared Tim. He'd never not had a nightmare since the incident, even if it was just a short, semi-painless one, he'd always had one. They'd always been there. However, right now, he woke up actually feeling…_good_? Something must have been horribly wrong.

It was still dark outside, so he figured that he must've passed out on the couch earlier than he'd thought. He guessed it to be maybe about two or three in the morning. Either way, he was starving, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd had something to eat, which was weird because a few hours ago he…

Wait.

He did something. He couldn't remember, but something had happened to put him in such a good, yet anxious, mood. All that came to mind was the fight…yeah, there was a fight yesterday. Between him and…Dick? No, it wasn't Dick. It couldn't have been. Was it Bruce?...yes. Yeah, that sounded about right. Him and Bruce. They'd fought over…over…what exactly? His head throbbed and he scrunched his eyebrows, massaging his temples. Bruce had said…oh God. He fired him; he fired Tim. And Tim had shouted back at him. And that only helped Bruce's argument. So Tim left. And he'd called…_someone_. And he went…_where_? Where was he now?

It was then that he noticed…something felt…_heavy_ on his waist. Warm, but heavy. Rubbing his eyes, Tim yawned, gazing down towards the unnatural feeling. He stopped.

It was an arm, _an arm_, and a rather muscular one at that. Oh my God. Slowly, he turned himself over, following the arm up with his eyes until they reached a shoulder, then a collar bone, then a neck, then a face. He gasped in surprise as he suddenly realized the significance of what was happening. Tim had fallen asleep. On the couch. Kon's couch. With Kon.

Cuddling.

_Cuddling._

Well, this was…what was this, exactly? He tried to calm his breathing as he remained in the meta's embrace. Had Kon always been this warm? He didn't know, nor did he care. All he knew was that this…this was nice. New. Weird. But nice. Awkwardly attempting to snuggle closer to the Superboy, Tim rested his head against his chest, inhaling his scent of fabric softener and the sky. He wasn't sure how it was possible to smell like the sky, but Kon did and it was amazing.

Noticing once again just how strange this all was, Tim chuckled a bit. Only the best of friends could cuddle on the couch together and think nothing of it. They were just that close. It was nothing more…right?

"You're cold."

Tim froze. Kon had been awake?! Now things suddenly became a whole lot more complicated. And embarrassing. "You're warm," he retorted.

"Touché," Kon muttered with a small laugh.

Man, Tim was happy that Kon couldn't see his face because it had suddenly turned bright red. What was happening here?

"Kon?" Tim questioned.

"Yeah?"

"…How…how did we end up like this?" Kon broke out into laughter. Tim's face grew hotter. "I'm serious!" He tried, playfully punching the meta on the chest. "I don't even remember falling asleep here."

"Well," Kon sighed, "One too many, I guess."

Tim's muscles stiffened, his eyes growing wide as they made contact with Kon's. No. No, they hadn't been drinking…right? They're underage…Tim would never…well, maybe that one time with Jason, but that was a completely different story! "We…got drunk?"

Kon shrugged, tilting his head down to better meet Tim's gaze. "I tried to cut you off, but you wouldn't let me. You kept going on about Bruce and how he had no right to fire you because you were just doing your job and how he owes you so much more respect than he gives you and how you were glad that you have a friend like me to be there for you in a time like this and how…how much you…" He stopped, averting his eyes from the smaller boy's stare.

Oh God, no_._ What did Tim _say_? No, no, _no_! This was bad. So very, very, _very_ bad. There were so many other things he could've… "Kon?...Hey, Kon?...What else did I say? How much I what?" The clone remained silent, forcing Tim to start speaking up. "Kon," he continued, "Kon, how much I _what_?"

Kon cleared his throat. "It…it was nothing. Really."

Tim punched Kon's chest, this time with quite a lot of force. "Dammit, Kon! What the hell did I say?! How much I wh-"

"How much you love me, Tim." Kon exhaled deeply. "How much you…you love me."

Jesus Christ, you could cut the tension in the air with a knife. The redness disappeared from Tim's face as it flushed, and his stomach twisted into a knot. He said…_what_ now? He gave a slight laugh as he stuttered. "Well, yeah, of course I love you. You're my best friend. That's just-"

"No, Tim." As Tim saw the look on Kon's face, his smile faded. Oh shit. _No_. Kon closed his eyes and continued. "You said…you said that you love me. That you _love_ me. That…that you always have and that you were always afraid to tell me."

Tim swallowed. "_Oh_." He wanted to vanish. Disintegrate. Pull a Houdini and disappear. They say when you're drunk the majority of what comes out of your mouth is the raw truth. Why else would Tim have said that if he didn't at least mean it a little bit…and he wasn't necessarily denying it either…but how on earth was he supposed to admit to that? They were both guys! The way that things were these days, that would never work. Besides, he doubted that Kon would even want that kind of relationship anyway, let alone felt the same way.

"But, you know…" Kon licked his lips. "It's funny because…I…well, I've had a lot of time to think about it since you said that, and I…well, I think I love you, too."

"Well, sure. I mean, what are best friends fo-"

"_No_, Tim." Kon opened his eyes, bringing one of his hands up to grab Tim's chin and tilt his head slightly upward, moving in closer. "I think I _love _you." It was then that something seemed to snap within Tim, something that had been straining to break for the longest time, and before he knew it, he was leaning in, locking lips with the half-Kryptonian, desperately trying to taste as much of him as he could.

There was no time to think. No time to figure out what was going on. There was only Tim and Kon, finally realizing what they'd both so urgently wanted all this time: each other.

As Tim ran his hands up and down Kon's chest, he moaned. He was so fucking built. So…_gorgeous_. He seriously couldn't handle how God damned attractive that Kon was. He was so turned on just by looking at him. Was it possible for someone to be _that_ sexy? Tim didn't really give a damn at the moment because all he knew was what he saw, and what he saw drove him up the wall.

This was going to be one _hell _of a night.

**I'm still debating on whether or not I'm going to make a Part 2 to this. I'm really not the best at writing smut, but hey, if you guys want me to write about what happens next, just let me know. I'm always up for a challenge. So please review!**


End file.
